Sonnet 142
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue
hate
«William Shakespeare»
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin,
grounded on sinful loving,
O but with mine,
compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find
it merits not reproving,
Or if it do, not from
those lips of thine,
That have profaned
their scarlet ornaments,
And sealed false
bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robbed others' beds'
revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love
thee as thou lov'st those,
Whom thine eyes woo
as mine importune thee,
Root pity in thy
heart that when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve
to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to
have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst
thou be denied.
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